


Playing It Safe

by fengirl88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Humor, Kissbingo, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable, the way he always does when Sherlock asks him to do something bizarre <i>in the interests of science</i>.  This seems to be happening more and more, recently, and somehow it always ends up getting out of hand.</p><p>Warning/contents note: BDSM elements, though nothing very graphic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing It Safe

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt square "body: toes" on my kissbingo card. Thanks to blooms84 for the beta and encouragement. This one's for the Factory girls: blooms84, crocodile_eat_u and turante; Happy New Year!

“Would you let me out of this thing the minute I asked you?”

“Of _course_ ,” John says. The very idea that he wouldn't is shocking. Even if Sherlock _is_ being exceptionally annoying this afternoon.

“Dull,” Sherlock says.

John's not even going to dignify that with a response.

Sherlock sighs.

“Still don't know what you think you're going to achieve with this,” John grumbles.

He's feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable, the way he always does when Sherlock asks him to do something bizarre _in the interests of science_. This seems to be happening more and more, recently, and somehow it always ends up getting out of hand. Turning sexual. That thing with the riding crop still makes him sweat just thinking about it. He tries not to think about the other things Sherlock has got him to do, supposedly for a case, because they're even worse.

“I _told_ you,” Sherlock says petulantly, as if dealing with such an incompetent and forgetful assistant is more than anyone – but especially the world's only consulting detective – should be expected to bear. “The defence claim is that there was a sex game that went wrong. Mrs Rose tripped over and knocked herself out so she didn't realize the house was on fire, and only recovered consciousness just in time to crawl free. Mr Rose of course couldn't move, and was dead of smoke inhalation by the time the fire brigade got to him.”

“Yes, you did tell me that,” John says, as patiently as he can. “But I still don't see why that means you need to get rolled up in a carpet like – like Cleopatra or a mummy or something.”

“The prosecution claims he wouldn't have let himself get trussed up like this voluntarily – so either she drugged him or there was an accomplice.”

“So you're trying to establish if it could have been – consensual,” John says.

This is sounding more and more like a bloody flimsy excuse for Sherlock getting him into kinky sex. Again.

“Yes,” Sherlock says, with a _What took you so long?_ note in his voice.

“Sherlock, I hate to point this out, but whether or not _you_ agreed to this doesn't prove anything about Mr Rose one way or the other.”

“I'm _trying_ to understand why someone would _want_ to do this,” Sherlock says. “And now I'm getting bored. Are you going to do anything to me or not?”

John looks at Sherlock, rolled up in the carpet lashed tight around him with two leather straps. All he can see of Sherlock is his head and his feet.

“What do you want me to do?” he says reluctantly.

“Can't you use your imagination for once?” Sherlock snaps.

“Fine,” John says. “I'll just leave you here to cool off for an hour or two, shall I?”

They both know he wouldn't actually do it, but it's a shock just the same. Sherlock looks a mixture of nervous and pleased with himself for pushing John's buttons.

John kneels down by Sherlock's head and starts running his fingers through his hair. Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again saying irritably “No, that's not going to work.”

“You really are the least patient person I know,” John says.

Sherlock glares at him.

“OK,” John says. “Do you want me to kiss you?'

“Sounds a bit tame for a sex game,” Sherlock says.

“That's not what you said last night.”

They'd both rather assumed before last night that you couldn't come just from kissing. John finds he's getting aroused again remembering the look of complete astonishment on Sherlock's face as he came. The flush rising in Sherlock's face now suggests he's remembering that moment too.

“I could make you come again like that now,” John says. “You wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop me.”

“The transcripts didn't say anything about _talking_.” Sherlock's voice has a tightness in it that John knows means he's getting hard. He wonders what it feels like having an erection when you're trapped like that. He also wonders how long it'll take Sherlock to find a pretext for trying to prove whether you can make someone come just by talking to them. On past form, he reckons it's probably about three days before Sherlock comes up with something.

“So, no snogging, no talking. Obviously I'm starting at the wrong end,” he says, moving down towards Sherlock's bare feet.

Sherlock's breathing quickens as John touches his ankles and gently strokes each instep in turn.

“You promised you wouldn't tickle me,” he says.

“I did, didn't I?” John says.

“I wouldn't be able to stop you if you changed your mind,” Sherlock says, rather breathlessly.

 _Fuck_. John's trousers feel so tight they're almost painful. He says with an effort “Luckily for you, I'm a man of my word.”

“You're no fun,” Sherlock grumbles.

“Tough,” John says. “We've been through this, Sherlock: if you want to play BDSM games you have to have a safeword. Which means one you agree _in advance_ , and stick to. Not something you make up as you go along and then mess around with.”

Sherlock mutters something inaudible.

“They would have had one, wouldn't they?” John says. “If it was a sex game. So you're not even doing your reconstruction properly.”

He touches the sole of Sherlock's foot lightly with one finger. Sherlock gasps.

“You made me promise,” John says, “and I'm keeping my promise.”

Sherlock moans faintly as he stops touching him.

“Didn't say anything about not kissing you there, though,” John says, bending down close so Sherlock can feel his breath on his skin.

Sherlock's toes curl as John blows gently on them, leans in close and kisses each in turn.

“Oh,” Sherlock says. “Oh, _John_ –”

The desire in his voice is so strong that John's embarrassment evaporates. He kisses his way slowly and deliberately from left to right again, licking and sucking as Sherlock whimpers and makes the only movements he can make. John runs his tongue along the underside of Sherlock's toes, and Sherlock gives a choked sort of cry that John knows means he's desperately close to coming.

“Oh, oh _no_ ,” Sherlock moans.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes – no – fuck – I don't _know_ ,” Sherlock says, beside himself now.

“Safeword next time,” John says, “yes?”

He starts kissing and licking again, moving the other way this time.

“Yes, _god_ , yes, please, anything, just – aaah!”

The bite is perfectly timed, tipping Sherlock over the edge.

Sherlock looks temporarily stunned by the force of his orgasm. John's feeling a bit stunned too, but he's also achingly hard. He finally manages to free Sherlock from the carpet, hurls himself on him and ruts against him till he comes, seeing stars.

 

“My arms feel a bit numb,” Sherlock says, a while later. “Do you think that's normal?

“Christ, Sherlock, I'm not sure that _normal_ is a word you should even be trying to use right now,” John groans.

“So, next time,” Sherlock says. “We have to have a safeword. Since you _insist_.”

He sounds amazingly pleased with himself, given he's just lost the argument.

He _did_ lose the argument, didn't he?

John's suddenly not so sure, remembering the circumstances of Sherlock's surrender.

“You bastard,” he says, “You made me do it again.”

Sherlock's laughing, and the temptation to do something outrageous to him while he's still probably unable to defend himself is almost overwhelming.

Almost, but not quite.

John thinks maybe it's time for him to come up with some ideas of his own, rather than always just reacting to Sherlock's. Next time Sherlock wants to be tied up, he won't touch him at all. He'll find out how long it takes to get him off just by talking. Or maybe he'll get himself off while Sherlock watches, and leave him hanging.

Take back some control, anyway. Starting now.

“I've thought of a safeword,” he says.

“Oh yes?” Sherlock sounds a bit sceptical.

“I was going to suggest _mummy_ , but I think that's a bit too kinky, even for you,” John says, grinning. “How about Cleopatra?”


End file.
